Before migrating to these regions
  Was followed by the Roman legions. 
  But we have writ enough to show
  What everybody ought to know,
  That, spite of hustle and skyscrapers,
  And Tammany and yellow papers,
  The spirit of both Greece and Rome
  Has found a second lasting home
  Across the wide Atlantic foam.

* * * * *

More War Economy.

    “Perambulator, cheap, for cash, as new; cost L9 15s., receipt shown;
    owner getting rid of baby.”—­Birmingham Daily Mail.

* * * * *

    “Turn to the annals of the period 1914-1917, everlastingly to be
    remembered by the Meuse of History.”—­Jamaica Paper.

The Meuse needs no reminder.

* * * * *

“DOING WITHOUT.”

A valued correspondent writes:—­ “We are deluged in the Press just now with information on how to ’do without.’  One morning a splendid recipe for making pancakes without eggs; another, a perfect Irish stew without potatoes; another, a Welsh rabbit without cheese.  Meatless days are to be as natural as wireless telegraphy; and the other day we were asked seriously to consider the problem of a school without teachers!  But there is a certain little corner of the daily paper headed, ‘London Readings,’ which could better, in war-time phrases, be expressed thus:  ‘Stern Facts must be Faced—­How to do without Sunshine,’ for all that the Meteorological expert can find to say is, ’Yesterday Sunshine, 0.0.  Previous day Sunshine, 0.0.’  O!  O!”

* * * * *

What a Woman Notices.

“Sears succeeded in cashing two of the cheques at the bank, the woman cashier not noticing that they were crossed.  When she came to the bank a third time, however, the cashier recognised the hat she was wearing, and caused her to be detained.”—­Times.

* * * * *

PRIVILEGE.

Mr. Jenkins, junior partner in the firm of Baldwin and Jenkins, antique dealers, Wigpole Street, was in the habit, on fine afternoons, of walking home from business to his flat in the Brompton Road.

He invariably chose the path which runs parallel to Park Lane, just inside the Park railings.

Being middle-aged and unmarried he walked slowly and methodically, and was careful, when he came level with an entrance, to note the particular gates marked “In” and “Out.”  He would, as he crossed the “Out” opening, look sharply to the right, and as he passed the “In” opening look sharply to the left.  “Safety first” was a creed with him.

One mild Spring afternoon, as he was passing by an “Out” aperture, with his whole attention fixed to the right, he was aware, amid the sound of motor-horns and shouts, that the roadway had risen up and struck him on the back of the neck, and that something like the Marble Arch had kicked him at the same moment.